Post #260229 by finkdaddy on Wed, Oct 11, 2006 4:56 PM

OK, I'll chime in. One of the houses I grew up in was a very old farmhouse in Grafton, WI. I'm not sure how old the house itself was, but it was associated with the underground railroad during the civil war. I should clarify that it was the estate, not necessarily the house that was that old, but it still dated back quite a ways. In the basement there was a huge square-shaped wooden column that ran through the center of the house that was scribed with names and dates that went back way into the 1800's. Anyway, it was haunted. I know what people think when I say that, but it was true, regardless of what others believe. For some reason it didn't seem so scary when we were there, but looking back now I can't believe we stayed so long. I guess when it's happening your mind makes excuses for what's really going on.

My dad and I were the first people to check out the house before we moved in. I must have been about 9 years old. I remember standing in the hugest kitchen I had ever seen, and all the other rooms connected to the kitchen through a doorway, so there were what seemed like a thousand doors in the room. My dad had walked into a bedroom while I stayed in the kitchen staring at the giant china cabinet. As I gawked at all of the glass and wood work, I wondered about all the people I could hear upstairs and why we had to unlock the front door if there were already people inside. Of course, when I asked my dad about it he just gave me a strange look and didn't say anything. When we finally worked our way upstairs there was not a soul in sight, and my dad said he had heard nothing. I don't know if he really did or not, but I know I heard several people, none of which were there when we walked upstairs.

My mom, you should understand, is a bit high-strung. She would often break down into tears at the sight of mice or bugs which were quite common in an old farm house. One night she almost had a nervous breakdown because our cat had caught and killed a mouse and for some reason had left it in the pantry. During her fit our furnace went out. That was not to uncommon because it was very old and during the Wisconsin winters it ran almost constantly. It made a very specific sound when it stopped running, and my mom went to the basement to reset the pilot light. Within moments she was screaming at the top of her lungs and my sister and I ran downstairs to see what was wrong. I will never forget this: there was a line of dead mice, maybe 12 or so, lined-up on the floor in front of the fuel-oil furnace in a perfect arc. It was not like our cat had left these there because these were lined up perfectly. They were positioned straight as arrows from nose to tail, in a perfect arc as if someone used a protractor to line them up.

I could go on for a long time with stories like this. I should say, though, that there was a certain "feeling" that I associate with that old house; sort of a pull at the bottom of my stomach. It's not a bad feeling at all, it's just something I learned would let me know when "someone" was around. To this day I occasionally have that same feeling. It's not very often, but it does happen. I kid with my wife and call it the "farmhouse feeling".

I can tell you with a straight face, because I'm completely serious, that I felt it more than once at the Mai Kai on Saturday night.

The house isn't there anymore. The city bought the property and the fire department used the house for practice. Now it's a parking lot for an industrial park. When I found this out I cried like a baby. My sister and I visit sometimes and talk about all the fun and strange times we had there.

Hope that wasn't too long!